It's Not Wor If You Love It!

Job motivation escalates through showing off

This was originally a background piece for a longer story, but it seemed to grow to a story by itself. So, I developed it fully. I don't remember now what the original story was, except to show the main character wasn't always a conservative repressed woman.

I mention a 'brew' frequently and it's a British term for a mug of tea or coffee.

A special thanks to RF-Fast for helping to proofread and ensuring the story is in good shape.

It's not work if you love it!

Ultimatum and compromise

Unlike most of my friends growing up, I managed to avoid any real jobs before I turned 18. I was too busy having fun and doing more with my boyfriends than my parents would have approved of. But at 18, my golden ticket to a free ride with my parents was abruptly torn up.

I'd no plans for further education and they had been hinting strongly about my getting a job. The straw that broke the camel's back was my dad coming home from work with a toothache to find his 18-year-old daughter, naked and sucking off a guy nearly my dad's age. I thought I might be kicked out on the street, but rather than admit to mum what he'd caught me doing. He gave me an ultimatum. Get a job and get my own place.

But 18-year-olds with zero experience and no leverageable hobbies don't get a lot of job offers. I'd be lucky to get a job as a cleaner, and I really didn't want to end up cleaning the u-bends on strangers' toilets. I applied for jobs with no response until I applied for a barmaid at a club with a dubious reputation. My dad went mad that I'd done that.

After my dad rejected my chance at a job as a barmaid, he made some calls to help me out. A few days later, he told me he'd found me a job. I'd have to interview, but it was virtually a done deal. It was as a receptionist for a local garage.

"Uncle Harry's place?" I asked.

He wasn't my real uncle, but I knew him when I was tiny, and almost all adults were referred to as an uncle or aunt. Mum scowled. "What?" I asked.

Dad stepped in to explain. "About 5 or 6 years ago your mum and I used to socialise with a crowd of people, including Harry." He gave mum a slight grin. "We used to drink more in those days and when Harry was drunk, he used to make it clear he fancied your mum..."

"And you never said anything to stop him." She accused him.

Dad went on, "I think our daughter is old enough to know that I think her mum's sexy." Mum flushed. "I've been telling your mum that since we first met, but sometimes I don't think she believes me. So having Harry, as a third party, tell her..."

"He kissed me and goosed my bum!", Mum said.

"And I was ready to step in and whisk you away. And I seem to remember..." He gave her a lascivious look.

"Not another word!" Mum admonished, but I got a hint they were talking about parental naughtiness later. Ew! "Why Harry?" she asked. "It's not a great job."

"True. But she'll learn phone skills as she makes appointments for customers. Basic accounting by drawing up invoices and chasing payments. Organisational skills and so on. Give it a year and she'll have enough experience to try for a better job."

"And having to deal with Harry and at least a dozen mechanics?"

"Love, have you seen our daughter? She's been dealing with men eying her up since before she was 16." Younger, I mentally corrected. "If anything, that's the least of my worries." However, as he said that, a frown crossed his face as he remembered walking in on me with that older guy.

I attended an interview with 'uncle' Harry, and it was pretty funny. But I tried to take it seriously. I had a modest skirt and blouse, and he explained the job. Basically, I'd open the garage just before 8am, and accept the car keys from the customer, adding a tag to say where it was parked. Then I'd field phone calls and book appointments.

I'd need to type up the bills before the customer came to collect their cars. Take phone and card payments in person and keep track of it all. For a relatively simple job, I'd be exposed to quite a lot of stuff which would pay off as experience for better jobs. The money was actually better than I expected, and I wondered if this was some favour to my dad.

But Mr King, as I had to call Harry, explained that I'd be the only female in the company. And the guys could be a bit like cavemen toward pretty young ladies. I wasn't about to disabuse my 'uncle' that I was less of a lady than he thought.

The garage was big enough to work on 4 cars at once in a large open space. I had a small office next to the giant garage doors, about 7 feet square, with a small window into the workshop. It was soundproof against the noise from the garage, so I could make calls easier.

Harry had a fairly big office. There was a small kitchenette, which would be comfortable for less than half the staff. There was a bathroom with two stalls and two urinals. Finally, there were two storage rooms that were a little scary. Stank of ancient oil and made me feel dirty just walking too close to them.

And when I say dirty, it was the naughty kind of dirty. I'd always had an active imagination regarding fantasies, and while some girls imagine being movie or pop stars. My fantasies were more along the lines of a lingerie model, stripper, or, in extreme cases, a high-end escort.

On the job

On my first morning, Mr King, as I had to remind myself to call him, apologised again about the guys. As the only woman in an all-male environment, their language could be colourful and crude. I smiled and assured him I wasn't some wilting flower that would get the vapours at the first 'fuck' I heard. He didn't look so sure but spent the day training me on the job.

It was a lot to take in, but not overwhelming. The busiest times for me were first thing, then again around lunchtime. Finally, again at the end of the day when I had to rush to type up bills from the mechanics badly filled in forms. Sometimes I had to go out and query the mechanic, and I noticed the friendly banter that was nearly continuous quieted down when I was in the workshop. It made me feel a little isolated sitting in my little cubicle alone all day. But I realised Harry must have warned them to clean up their act when I was around.

The mechanics ranged from Andy, who was only 24 and a bit shy, all the way up to Arthur, who was about 50 and had 3 grandkids. There was definitely a pecking order in who teased who, and the jokes, when I wasn't apparently in earshot, were crude and crass. But it didn't bother me.

When I got my first pay packet at the end of the month, I was ecstatic. Until I got home, and dad demanded nearly half for 'rent'. I'd expected to go on a massive spending spree, and that pissed me off. Not helped when he explained I needed to get used to budgeting for when I had my own place. I went off in a huff, but mum came to find me and confided something. Dad and she had agreed to set aside most of the money for me like a savings account. This way when I was earning enough to get a place of my own, they would give me back the money to pay any deposit and perhaps get some furniture of my own.

I understood and appreciated it, but I'm not a delayed gratification kind of girl. When I want something, I want it right away. Which got me into a few unfortunate situations with my friends' boyfriends and one of their dads. Remember that guy my dad caught me with?

So, my clothes shopping trip was more for work stuff. Uncle Harry asked me to wear a blouse or something smart at work, presenting a professional front for the customers. But as I was behind my desk most of the time, I could wear jeans and trainers if I wanted.

A few weeks later, I had a breakthrough at work towards becoming one of the 'guys.' Arthur had come back from a week's holiday in the Canary Islands, and he was holding court telling the guys what he'd done. I could hear him as it was hot in my tiny office, and I was leaving the door open for the cooler air. The trip was for their 30th anniversary and he'd finally talked his wife into visiting a nudist beach.

Which got cheers and chuckles from the other mechanics standing around Arthur in a loose semi-circle. She'd said that nobody would be interested in seeing an old lady like her, but I'd seen a photo, and I had to disagree. It was her in their garden with two of their grandkids in a paddling pool. She wasn't a small woman, but wore a bikini showing off massive boobs, and I even noticed how prominent her nipples were.

I knew everyone in the garage had seen that photo and I was sure all of them, including young Andy, would wish that they had been there. I stepped out of my office behind Arthur. The others saw me, but Arthur was too tied up in his story about the dozens of naked women of all shapes and sizes, to notice their change in expression.

I held up a finger to my lips not to let on that I was there and there were a few grins. He went on to explain how his wife kept saying he would get more out of it than her on the nudist beach. Despite his reassurance that all the guys wanted to see her naked. He kept pointing out the young men walking down the beach and looking at her. Then returning minutes later for another look, with semis. I had to smile at that.

He went on to say after they got back to the hotel, she let him play tonsil hockey for the first time in nearly a decade. The room was silent, and I was sure Arthur wondered why. But he didn't know I was standing just behind him. I burst out laughing and he spun round and actually blushed.

"You don't think I know what that is? I'm not averse to tonsil hockey myself." I gave them a sexy wink and returned to my office.

I caught the others laughing at Arthur's embarrassment, but after that I felt more one of the 'guys.' Knowing I wouldn't get upset, they would now include me in their banter and teasing. It was milder than they gave each other, but I played along and teased back. Vamping it up from time to time to embarrass the guys in turn.

Because I was the first one in, in the mornings, I finished on Friday afternoons at 4:30, and on the last Friday in August, it was my birthday. My friends planned on us taking the train to a larger town with fresh bars and clubs to go to. So, I brought in a change of clothes so I could rush to the train after work.

I asked Mr King if he minded if I changed before I left, as it was my birthday. He shrugged and wished me a happy birthday. Around about 4 o'clock, I headed to the bathroom and changed into a short black skirt and a black blouse covered in sequins. After adding high heels and redoing my makeup, I headed back to my office.

Only the moment I left the bathroom; I noticed every guy paused in their work to watch me. Even Harry, who was talking to Arthur, looked over and grinned. I gave him a little wave and felt a buzz from being the centre of attention. Obviously, I'd dressed up to get male attention, and this proved it had worked. I even felt a little turned on.

I left my regular work clothes under my desk and rushed to the train. It was amusing being so dressed up when kids were still going home from school. We had a great night, and I snogged a few guys and groped and was groped back by a couple. But I didn't let it go further, as I was crashing at a friend's house. We didn't get to bed until 4 am.

Normally Mr King came in somewhere between 9:30 and 10 am, as he stayed until 6pm each night to let late clients collect their keys. When he came in early on Monday, he explained he needed to spend the morning arguing with suppliers over better discounts. Then added that he preferred what I'd worn on Friday. I told him he was being cheeky, but it was light banter.

Around 10:30, I was surprised to get an email to my work account. I don't think I'd had one just for me before. It was Harry asking if I could get him a tea, as he was stuck on the phone and parched. He admitted it wasn't my job and apologised, but I didn't mind. I was getting bored at some points in the day.

We weren't exactly a cup and saucer place, so I made Harry's milky and sweet tea in his mug. Then put it on a plate and added a couple of chocolate digestives. He gave me a look like I'd presented him with the holy grail as I put it on his desk. 1/2 an hour later, I got another email from Harry. Praising me for the biscuits as he crashed if his blood sugar dropped. Usually, he had mini chocolate bars in his desk, but he'd run out.

When I went to grab a sandwich for lunch, I also got two family sized bags of Milky Ways. Putting one on Harry's desk and the other in my desk for emergencies. Around 3 pm, I wanted a coffee and made another tea for Harry. Better to be busy than sit being bored.

When I put his tea on his desk, he surprised me by jumping up and saying I was a life saver. Then he hugged me and kissed my forehead.

"Crap, sorry." He said, stepping back.

"Why? It's not like you've not hugged me and kissed my forehead before 'uncle' Harry." I said the uncle on purpose this time.

"True, but that was when you were small and didn't have those." His hands came up towards my boobs, and for a moment, I thought he might touch them.

But he only gestured to them. Admittedly from pretty close up.

"I'm not a little girl anymore." I said and felt a little buzz from seeing him staring at my boobs.

"I noticed that, especially on Friday." He seemed to realise he was staring and moved to sit. "Thanks for the tea; and the chocolates."

After I returned to my desk, I pondered on Harry eying me up. Not that I wasn't used to that in general. But that was more blatant than I was used to.

Since I'd started working, I'd started to consume work related porn and erotic stories. I'd no interest in Harry, but the idea of a guy in power over a young hot female was exciting. Sometimes it was secretaries that had made a mistake and had to pay by spanking or sucking their boss's dick.

I had created a few fantasies around that, and being forced to walk around the workshop in slutty clothing. But it was pretty generic and not related to any real people.

On Thursday afternoon, I had my regular meeting with Mr King about how it was going with my job. But after 2 months I had everything down pat. So, I'd sit in his office and drink my coffee to his sweet tea, and we'd chat about the business. He complained the mechanics tended to slack off by the time they got to Friday. Which annoyed Harry as he hated holding on to customer's cars over the weekend. The garage was open with a skeleton staff on Saturday mornings, for emergencies or super simple fixes.

He joked that I might motivate them if I were to dress up like I did on the previous Friday. We laughed, but I added that it wouldn't bother me. He looked surprised, but I admitted I liked showing off, a bit. I hastily added the last 2 words. I didn't want to come off too keen. He tapped his pen on his desk in thought.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "It would be no good if you were dressed 'nice' all day." I smiled at his choice of words. "So; how about this? The guys make a 'brew' at about 3:30, right? If you were to put on something nice and serve them their 'brew' in the workshop?"

I nodded.

"Sorry if that's making you do the teas and coffees again. But this way I can tell them if they pull their finger out, you'll bring them a brew. Otherwise, you stay in your office, and they sort themselves out."

It sounded ok to me, and I agreed. I loved being the centre of attention and it hinted of naughtiness showing off to my work colleagues.

New responsibilities

That night I spent ages going through my clothes, only to pause as I realised Harry would probably want me to do it every Friday. Which made me a little wet, but I also understood that I'd have to pace my outfits. Otherwise, by Christmas, the effect of me wearing something a little revealing would have lost its effect.

A mental image of me serving tea in high heels and just my underwear popped into my head, and I laughed. I wouldn't go that far; would I? That caused a shiver down my back. That was one of my darker fantasies. But I went back to plan a variety of outfits that I could adjust to be a little more revealing or sexier over time.

After vague but sexy dreams, I went to work with my change of clothes in a bag. Only after I sat down did I worry that Harry would say if the guys hadn't done enough to earn their bonus. I chuckled that I would be disappointed. How fucked up was that?

Then Harry arrived. He came straight into my office and gave me a look. I nodded, feeling suddenly awkward, and pointed to my bag. He gave a relieved smile and left me. Looking through the small triple glazed window into the workshop, I saw Harry approaching the mechanics in ones and twos. Presumably telling them to pull their fingers out and finish their work today.

He gestured towards me, and I saw the mechanics glance at me. I could feel my panties getting damp. Then the phone rang, and I jumped. Telling myself to pull myself together. It wasn't like I was going to bang them all! I'd be wearing clothes I went out in regularly and handing out mugs of tea and coffee.

Snatching up the phone, I resumed work. But I noticed as I glanced into the workshop, the guys operating with a hint of haste that I rarely saw on a Friday. At least that made it unlikely that Harry would stop me. I shook my head that I was so messed up that I wanted to flaunt myself around the guys.

The day was busier than usual as mums tried to book their cars in for services before they had to take their little darling to school. The mechanics dropped off their worksheets all morning, and I had to wonder what Harry had told them. What if he'd promised too much?

But he'd not given me any guidance over what to wear. After a moment's thought, I realised why. He'd said I should wear something nice. Leaving the decision to me as to what that meant. Because if he'd said 'wear something slutty' it would be an open and shut sexual harassment case. OK, probably not from me. Last night, I let my imagination go wild over what I might wear. Knowing I'd probably chicken out on the naughtier stuff.

It was mid-afternoon before I managed to have 5 minutes to myself, and I was thirsty, having not had a break all day. When I looked at the clock, it was 3 pm and I smirked. Nearly show time. I looked over at my bag and tried to remind myself not to overthink this.

At quarter past, I grabbed my bag and purse and walked over to the bathroom. Noticing everyone paused in their work to watch me. As the door closed behind me, I had to admit I loved the attention. Stepping into the toilet stall and closing the lid. I stripped down to my panties, then a shiver went through me. Being naked, but for my sexiest panties, in a toilet was nasty.

However, something nasty turned me on right now. I slipped on my purple push-up bra, even though I didn't need the enhancement, and wondered how it looked. Without thinking it through, I opened the cubicle door and admired myself in the mirror. The door to the workshop moved, and I froze. My heart sped up until I realised it was just someone driving a big vehicle into the garage. The air pressure changes regularly popped my office door open.

Giggling nervously, I finished dressing without closing the cubicle door. The same short skirt as last week, but a scoop neck burgundy top. I adjusted it so the edge of my purple bra was just visible. Then blew a kiss at myself in the mirror. Added the high heels; to give my legs and bum a boost, I topped up my mascara and put a deeper lipstick on. Not wanting to overdo it, as I wanted room to escalate in the future.

Tucking my regular clothes into the bag, I exited the bathroom and felt all the guys' eyes on me. Projecting a casualness I wasn't feeling, but tried to pull off. Usually, when I wear something like this, I have girlfriends around for moral support. When I stepped into the kitchen, I saw all the mugs lined up and the kettle freshly boiled.